The Insurrection

"There was some fighting between loyal and mutinous elements," Haley continued. "Our only information comes from a courier drone from the superdreadnought Pentelikon. The drone carried an Omega message." The chamber was utterly still; Code Omega was used only for the final communication from a doomed ship.

"As nearly as we can determine," Haley said into the hushed silence, "the entire task force--minus those units destroyed in the fighting--went over to the Kontravians or was sggbsequently captured.

As of the time Pentelikon's lsv

At least six destroyers, three light and heavy cruisers, one carrier, and two superdreadnoughts were destroyed in the ighting.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," the Speaker said very quietly, "this means, in effect, that there are no loyal survivors rom the entire task force." The silence grew, i pounds possible, even more complete. Most of the delegates were staring at Haley's image in horror. Very few seemed capable of coherent thought--and that, Dieter thought, was what was desperately needed now.

He was reaching for his own attention hutton when the @u sound of another bell cut the air. An edge o pounds uncontrollable bilerness crossed the Speaker's face, but when he spoke, his voice was as impersonal as ever. "rhe Chair recognizes the Honorable Assemblyman for Galloway's World." Dieter leaned back as Taliaferro appeared on the screen. His face was taut, but any sense of guilt was well hidden as he looked out over the depleted delegations for a long second, then spoke.

"But we must not allow shock and shame to paralyze us. However terrible the news, it is our responsibility to act and act promptly.

Consider, my friends--the Kontravian traitors have acquired the equivalent of their own navy out of this.

The ships of Task Force Seventeen will he turned against us, the legitimate government of the Federation.

Threats of force and force itself may be used against us by these damnable traitors! Our defenses are strong; it is unlikely any rebel attack will penetrate I

We must mobilize the rest of Battle Fleet.

We must call in every loyal ship, every loyal military man and woman. We must crush the heart out of the Fringe World conspiracy! We must show these barbarians that we--not thee--are the representatives of civilized humanity! And with God's help, we wl show them that! We will defeat them, and we will hunt down and execute every traitor who has dared to raise his hand against the might and dignity and justice of the Terran Federation!" A roaring ovation sealel his words, and Dieter shuddered. Damn the man] Damn him to hell! This disaster demonstrated the fundamental, destructive insanity of his entire self-serving policy. It should have stu

He bowed over his hands in defeat. He'd tried.

As God was his witness, he'd tried. But he'd failed, and the Taliaferros and Waldecks and Sydons had inherited the Federation... or whatever smoking ruins would be leA. He felt hot tears behind his eyes and turned in his chair. He would have no more of it. He would resign his seat, leave them to their madness.

A hand touched his shoulder, and the concern and desperate faith in Heinz yon Rathenau's eyes stopped him. Of all the New Zurich delegation, Heinz saw most clearly. He understood, and as Dieter saw the faith in those green eyes, he could not leave it unanswered. He owed it to Heinz, to the Federation, and most of all--comGod help him-- to Fio

"Chief?." Rathenau asked softly. "Are you all right?" "Yes, Heinz." Dieter rested his hand on the fingers grippin his shoulder and squeezed gently. "Yes, I'm all rstght now. Thank Y." He saw Rathenau's confusion and hoped the young man would never realize just what that "thank you" meant. But whether young Heinz ever did or not, all that mattered now was the battle which must be fought. And as he thought of Heinz, as he thought of Fio

"Can't you see what this means? Are you all so blind you can't recognize reality just because it happens to clash with your comfortable image of yourvs as the last bright hope of humanity? By God, you don't deserve to survive! Think of the date, you idiots!

Task Force Seventeen mutinied five months ago.t Who knows what's happened since?" His words shattered the rising anger like a lightning bolt. They'd lived with the reality of the Fringe's slow communications all their lives, had learned to use their faster communications for ruthless advantage, yet until he threw the date in their faces, they hadn't even considered the time element. But now the implications were before them, and their palms were suddenlv slick with fear.

"Yes," Dieter sneered. "It takes a'long time for courier drones to come that far--and who knows where other drones were sent? We have one from a single unit of the task force. Do you seriously think that was the only drone launched? Do you seriously think other Fleet units haven't heard by now? Sixty percent of the Fleet is Fringer. Sixty percent. Can none of you understand what that means? We don't have the numerical advantage in the civil war you've provoked--thet do!" His words unleashed the ugly, snarling pandemonium of terror. For over a year, he'd hammered away, warning them, pleading with them, and all but a minority had ignored him. They controlled the Fleet. They spoke with their every word backed by the suppressive might of the Federation's military. And now, suddenly, they saw the nightmare at last, and the man who'd warned them, who'd earned their contempt for his weakness, had been right all along.

Dieter's voice thundered above the tumult.

"Yes! Yes flog the Fringe! Ignore their legitimate eom-plaints! Call them barbarians because they're more honest, more desperate than you are! And now see what you've created! God help me, I helped you do it--comnow I must bear the same guilt as you, and the thought makes me sstck." "But what are we going to do?" someone yelled.

"My Ged, what are we going to do?" "Do?" Dieter sneered down at him. "What do you think we're going to do? We're going to fight.

We're going to fight to save what we can, because we have no choice, because the only alternative is the utter destruction of the Federation--comt's what we're going to do. But understand this, all of you! The days of contempt for the Fringe axe over. Fight them, yes. But never, never call them 'barbarians" again! Because, ladies and gentlemen, ff they really are barbarians, we're doomed." His words plunged them back into silence. A fearful, lingering silence. "We're doomed because they have Task Force Seventeen, ladies and gentlemen, and by now they have other ships. By the time we can get our own courier drones to the Fringe, they may have all of Frontier Fleet--perhaps even the Zephrain Fleet base." He felt the sudden whiplash of terror that thought woke in the delegates who knew what it meant, but he hammered the point mercilessly hoine "I know what that means, and so should you.